unbelievable
by amillionsmiles
Summary: He tries to think of something he can say, so he doesn't just stand there grinning like an idiot or gaping like a fish. Some word to describe this. Them. / Tadashi&GoGo, one-shot.


**A/N: **I'M SHIPPER TRASH FORGIVE MEEEEEE also the last line was just too hard to resist SORRY

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><p>"After you," says Tadashi, holding open the door. GoGo rolls her eyes as she walks through, busy chewing on the straw of her boba tea, but the corner of her mouth pulls up in silent acknowledgment.<p>

Tadashi slips his free hand into his pocket, following GoGo outside. The evenings have started to get a bit chillier, but not enough to warrant a change in his favorite sweater, and GoGo remains in her usual jacket and leggings.

Around them, other people file in and out of shops and restaurants. The electric buzz of lights hums overhead, and he brushes shoulders with a group of businessmen headed in the opposite direction, their faces lit up by the glow from their phone screens. Tadashi pulls out his own to check the time: 10:00.

Ahead of him, GoGo has stopped under a paper lantern. Her face is tilted slightly upwards, eyes closed, and the yellow light touches her skin warmly. She looks…peaceful.

As if sensing his attention, one of GoGo's eyes cracks open. Without saying anything, she motions with a tilt of her head and turns around.

Tadashi half-jogs to catch up with her. "Where are we going?"

"Anywhere," GoGo replies, looking down to stir her drink. "Let's just walk."

"Okay."

It's nice, meandering with GoGo. He doesn't feel pressured to talk, and even without Honey Lemon's excited chatter or Fred's shuffling walk or Wasabi's comforting bulk, the air between them is natural. He pulls a little bit ahead as they cross the street, but GoGo tugs the strap of his bag, guiding Tadashi's focus to the left instead of straight ahead.

Down the dim, narrower path, an older woman sits at a table, hands folded patiently across the cloth. The light from the entrance of her shop spills onto the street, creating a golden square in the pathway. A throng of passerby has amassed around the table, some filtering into the shop afterwards out of curiosity. As they draw closer, Tadashi figures out why. The woman has dragged out a potted tree, positioning it to the right of the table, and garlands of paper flutter from its branches. Tadashi watches as a young man bends down to help his daughter write something and hang it up before he takes the little girl's hand and guides her away.

It's November—late, to be celebrating Tanabata—but the woman's stand does a fine job of attracting tourists, and even Tadashi, as a San Fransokyo native, can't find it in himself to complain. GoGo has peeled away to approach the woman, and as Tadashi saunters up behind her, he catches the tail ends of their conversation.

It's in Japanese. Tadashi blinks, surprised, as GoGo murmurs, "Arigatou gozaimasu," and picks two colored slips of paper. She slides one over to him, scribbling something on the other before moving toward the tree.

"I didn't know you spoke Japanese," says Tadashi, joining her as she loops the string through her paper and over a branch. He knows a bit, too—it's hard not to pick up a little with the signage plastered everywhere—but hearing the syllables fall from GoGo's lips is different. It adds another poster to Tadashi's mental corkboard of her—or maybe it's more like peeling back a layer.

GoGo shrugs. "Family gatherings," she explains, finishing her knot. "I use it mostly with my grandparents."

They continue on. Tadashi doesn't ask about her paper wish—it seems intensely private, for some reason, and he's satisfied with the glimpses he's had into GoGo's mind so far. Their next street crossing forces them through a mass of people, and Tadashi loses sight of GoGo for a second before he feels a tug on the strap of his bag. Looking backwards, he finds GoGo hanging on so as not to get separated from him, though she's busy looking somewhere else.

In his pocket, his hand suddenly feels sweaty. Should he offer his hand, or would that push them too far into date territory?

He almost misses a step. _Is_ this a date? GoGo has yet to let go of his bag. With her free hand, she throws away her now-empty cup, the plastic arcing through the air and landing neatly in the open mouth of the trashcan.

This isn't the first situation where they've spent time together. Nor is it the first time that they've been alone. But the atmosphere seems different, like a bubble has surrounded the two of them, one Tadashi fears he will pop if he makes the wrong move.

He keeps his hands in his pockets.

At 10:45, they board a trolley back to school. The car wobbles a little as it starts its descent down the winding streets, and Tadashi grips the overhead hangers to keep his balance. In front of him sits GoGo, one arm draped across the back of the seat, her chin resting on her shoulder as she stares out the window, blowing bubbles intermittently.

"I hope Honey Lemon got her project done," starts Tadashi.

"Which one?" says GoGo, raising an eyebrow. "She has like fifty going on at once."

Tadashi chuckles, shaking his head. "Well, that's Honey. And Wasabi's probably trying some new recipe."

"Fred's sleeping."

"And my brother is probably still up tinkering with his bots," Tadashi sighs fondly. He looks at GoGo. "Which leaves us."

"Yeah." She stretches, shooting him a sideways look. "It wasn't so bad."

"You say that like it's over."

"Oh?" GoGo smiles. "Do you have something more planned?"

"Well, I'm walking you back to your dorm."

GoGo crosses her arms, her smile lifting a little higher. "What a gentleman."

Tadashi grins, leaning a bit closer. "Seriously, though."

"Are you going to go home?"

Tadashi checks the time. "Yeah. I'll sneak in quietly."

GoGo tilts her head, brushing her fingers through her bangs as she regards him. "You could stay over, you know."

Tadashi knows the offer is more one of convenience—just a friend looking out for a friend—but he reddens, thinking of the last time: GoGo curled up like a cat, happily drunk; waking up the next morning and finding GoGo miraculously on her feet, bustling like nothing had ever happened.

Not that anything _had_ happened. And it wasn't like something was going to happen _tonight_, either—

"On the couch," adds GoGo, upon seeing Tadashi squirm.

"R-right. Of course," stutters Tadashi before managing to recover with a "Thanks, but I'll be all right."

GoGo shrugs. "Suit yourself."

When they reach campus, she studies him for a second, eyebrows drawing together briefly as they cross the grassy lawn. "You've got something on your hat."

"What?" Tadashi feels around his cap for some glaring stain.

"Here," beckons GoGo. Obliging, Tadashi bends his head a bit toward her level.

She pulls his hat off, dancing out of reach.

"Hey!" he protests, feeling suddenly bare. "What was that for?"

GoGo shrugs, smirking, spinning his hat around one finger as she regards him.

"Unbelievable," says Tadashi, trying not to sound too indignant.

"What's _unbelievable_ is how your head is so much smaller than mine," counters GoGo, in the middle of pulling the brim lower over her forehead.

"You're going to stretch it."

"It's adjustable, doofus."

He can't muster a clever-enough response, so he lets her wear his hat.

Time compresses strangely after that, and before Tadashi knows it, the two of them stand outside GoGo's door. GoGo leans against it, one hand resting on the doorknob, before she turns to him.

"Tonight was fun."

"Yeah. Me too. I mean—I agree. That it was fun," Tadashi stumbles, too distracted by the fact that _she's still wearing his hat_ and what is he supposed to do? Asking for it back seems awkward and _lame,_ but if he reaches out for it he risks appearing as if he's making a move. And he's pretty sure GoGo would punch his lights out.

GoGo looks as if she wants to add something else, but she only says, "'Night, Tadashi."

"Good night, GoGo." Maybe he'll just let her keep the hat. He'll see her tomorrow, anyways.

Tadashi is just about to turn when he hears a muttered, "What the hell," and, before he knows it, GoGo has propelled herself forward onto the tips of her toes, grabbing his sweater and yanking him down in the process. Her nose digs into his cheek a little as their mouths meet, and Tadashi's brain short-circuits.

When he finally regains enough coherence to process everything, he realizes that one of GoGo's hands has left its position by his chest in order to pull his hat off and place it back onto his head. The thought that GoGo can multitask even while she's kissing him senseless makes him laugh a little, which makes him feel even more breathless.

There's something about the whole situation that just makes _sense, _even in its unexpectedness. Relaxing, Tadashi bends his neck more so that GoGo doesn't have to crane upwards as much; his hands find their way to her waist, pulling her closer.

He tries to remember how they got here. From boba tea to paper wishes to trolley rides, but the path dissolves in his head because there's too much else to process. Instead, he tries to think of something he can say afterwards, so he doesn't just stand there grinning like an idiot or gaping like a fish. Some word to describe this—_them._

The word pops into his mind with ease—probably _too_ easily—and Tadashi smiles wider against GoGo's lips. Yeah, he's an idiot. And GoGo will probably punch him.

But the whole night _has_ been kind of…unbelievable.


End file.
